Blaney hesitated. It had not been a part of his plan to tell of the prospective sale of the stock. He had meant to have the Council direct the voting of the stock for C. & S.C. faction, and then when they had committed themselves by this act, to urge upon them the necessity of selling out and to tempt them with the offer of par. But a glance at Bridge's set face convinced him that the new ally meant what he said, and he knew too much already for the safety of the scheme unless he were furthering it. “They're with us to this extent,” said Blaney, slowly. “They're going to buy our stock.” “That's all rot,” said Bridge. “We can't sell. M. & T.'s a good investment now, and it's getting better every day.” “Wait till I get through,” interrupted Blaney, bent now on making an impression. “Don't you think the Council would vote to sell at par?” “What's that got to do with it?” “C. & S.C. are going to pay par, that's all.” Bridge looked at him incredulously. “Then we're to vote the stock as they dictate, just on the strength of their telling us they'll pay par for it afterward. I'm afraid it'll be a long time afterward. How do you know they aren't playing us for suckers?” “How do we know?” repeated Blaney. “I'm not quite as green as you think. I know because I've got it down in black and white. They can't get around a contract like that.” Unlocking a drawer in his desk, he drew out a sheet of paper which he thrust into Bridge's hands. “Read it,” he said. Bridge read it through once and then again; it was briefly worded, and he had no difficulty in remembering it. As he laid the paper down he was conscious of a violent throbbing in his head, and he shivered as though an icy breeze had blown upon him. He rose uncertainly from his chair and moved toward the door. “What's the matter?” demanded Blaney. “Where are you going?” “I don't feel very well,” said Bridge. “I think I'll go home and go to bed.” When he reached the foot of the stairs, however, he turned not toward his room, but toward the railway station; for in his mind there was a confused purpose of going to Chicago immediately and telling Jim Weeks exactly what he had found out. Scarlet fever is not ordinarily a man's disease, but it had fallen upon Bridge. He had exposed himself to it on the evening when he went to Blaney's house to make the preliminary move in his game; and now after the five days of tense inaction it attacked him furiously.